


Postseason, Offseason, Wabbit Season

by jesshelga



Category: New Era Commercials
Genre: Cameos, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesshelga/pseuds/jesshelga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec Baldwin and John Krasinski pick up where they left off--recuperating from Alec's accidental arson and giving each other a hard time--but as the baseball season moves into the winter of their discontent, Alec and John find new targets, talk joint ventures, the puzzle of Brian Wilson, and, finally, prepare to begin their rivalry anew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postseason, Offseason, Wabbit Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moriann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/gifts).



> Many thanks to blahmanda, who handed me the idea of the Jon Hamm cameo (and Jon is a dyed-in-the-wool Cardinals fan; it's on Wikipedia!) and gave the story a read and checked for egregious errors. My apologies to comedy legends and crazy baseball fans Billy Crystal and Bill Murray.
> 
> No apologies to Brian Wilson, Albert Pujols, Ozzie Guillen, Derek Jeter, or Dustin Pedroia. Go Cubs!

Arson charges were the least of Alec’s worries. To be honest, the arson charges were easily cleared up, thanks to his connections (and the fact that no human lives were lost). However, not long after the last of the comp tickets for _Saturday Night Live_ were distributed to various top police officials and the district attorney’s office, the Yankees were in the playoffs. And Alec still had nowhere to live. In New York, at least. He had a lovely vacation home in Aspen and a home in Los Angeles, where his beautiful, younger second wife lived.

Alec was recounting this as he and Krasinski watched the playoffs. “Boy, you use a _lot_ of adjectives,” John said as the Yankees took the field against the Tigers.

“Adjectives, much like Derek Jeter, provide much-needed pizazz to routine.” Alec put his feet on John’s coffee table; John corrected the action by swatting Alec’s shins several times with a rolled-up _Boston Globe_.

“So in your world, adjectives are the overpaid, rapidly deteriorating words that needlessly overexert themselves?”

“John, rather than justify your barely veiled commentary with the pummelling it deserves, I will once again ask you if you aren’t simply sad and frustrated that the Red Sox did not reach the playoffs. Then I would follow that observation up with further exploration of the fact that any Red Sox fan should now be accustomed to abject failure and disappointment.”

John took a sip of his beer. “‘Abject’ is a pretty good adjective. You know who else is abject?”

They both said “Your mom” at the same time.  


* * *

  
John did not take the opportunity to bring up “abject” after Game 7 of the Yankees-Tigers series. Mostly because Alec was too drunk and incoherent and it was too easy.

Also, despite himself, Krasinski felt sorry for the idiot.

“The _Tigers_ ,” Alec repeated, for approximately the 70th time. “New York is a glorious beacon of hope and promise to millions of people, the capital of theater and culture and fashion in America. And Detroit is a shooting gallery full of condemned buildings. It’s _un-American_ that this has happened. I’m going to call Giuliani.”

After a second of puzzled thought, John said, “Um, I don’t think Giuliani can do much.”

Alec threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Well, he’s _governor_ , isn’t he?”

“No. Uh, he ran for Senate. In 2000. And withdrew from the race.”

“ _Republicans_ ,” Alec spat. “Typical.” Then, “ _Detroit_.”  
John shrugged noncommittally and started to clear away empties. “Hey, remember? The Red Sox didn’t even make it to the playoffs this year. So you’ll always have that.”

Alec responded by bursting into tears.

John sighed. It was going to be a long offseason.  


* * *

  
Alec covered the receiver with his hand and excitedly whispered, “It’s ringing! It’s ringing!”

John stood across from him in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “Alec, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

Alec sniffed. “It’s a _great_ idea. You’re just jealous you didn’t...hello? Is that you, Hamm?”

Alec’s frantically happy nodding suggested it was, and John helped him put the call on speaker.

“Alec, is this about _30 Rock_? Because I told Tina I’m pretty busy shooting the new season. Of _Mad Men_. Which is my full-time job, despite what all my comedian friends think.”

“Oh, no, I’m not calling about that. I know you’re a very busy man.” Alec looked at John and snickered behind his hand, then continued. “I just wanted to let you know, personally, from my sources in LA, that Pujols is going to the Angels.”

The line was silent. Furiously, furiously silent.

“You know, you Yankees fans are all alike,” Hamm’s sentence began, which Alec followed with “Awesome. Yes, I know we’re awesome.” And Hamm continued, his volume increasing to near-shouting, “You’re so bitter that a genuinely talented _National League_ team from the Midwest won the World Series that...”

“Without Pujols, you jokers have _nothing_.” Baldwin’s voice filled with an ursine growl.

“I hope A. Rod’s ACL blows out in the first game of the season!” Hamm bellowed. Then there was a moment of silence. “Am I on speaker?”

Alec looked at Krasinski. “Yes.”

“Is Krasinski there?” Hamm asked.

“Heyyyyyyyyy, Jon. Uh, haven’t seen you since the Emmys. How’s it...”

“So the Red Sox couldn’t even make the playoffs, huh?”

Krasinski scowled, then leaned close to the speakerphone and said, “The Arch sucks and the Cardinals suck and I hope it stung when Kyle Chandler got that Best Actor statue.”

“As soon as I’m done shooting, I’m going to find the two of you and then, Alec, I’m going to tell _Tina_ what you’ve been up to...”

Alec shouted “Go Yankees” and hung up the phone. Then he looked at Krasinski and said, “I have to call Tina before he does.”  


* * *

  
“Mr. Crystal, I want to start this meeting by saying what a huge fan I am of your work.”

“Okay, Krasinski, enough smoke up my keister. Here’s what I’m thinking: you, Baldwin, two-man play based on those commercials. Only I want this to be a wonderful opportunity to explore the warm, strong relationships baseball builds amongst men. Of course we’d touch on the long-standing rivalry between the Yankees and the Mets...I mean, Yankees and the Red Sox. And, of course, we’d have Baldwin doing a piece or two on his own, because he’s quite the character.”

“Sir, before this meeting continues, I have a note here from Alec, and I think it’s important you see it.”

“Okay, okay, cool your jets. You’re like Thomas Jane before we started shooting _61*_. You remember that film? For The HBO? About the Mantle and Maris home run race?”

“Yes, sir, I remember. Um...”

“Alec certainly folded this. And it has a wax seal too.”

“Yeeeeeeah...”

“...”

“Look, I want to say right now, it wasn’t my idea.”

“Is Mr. Met...supposed to be dead in this gutter?”

“Uh, I’m guessing. There’s certainly a lot of blood.”

“The graffiti on the brick wall that reads ‘Mets suck’ is a nice touch.”

“The thing about Alec is...”

“Krasinski?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out of here.”

“I think Jason Bay will really put on a show this year.”

“Door’s that way.”

“Yes, sir.”  


* * *

  
Krasinski’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen, sighed, and said, “What now?”

“Can I ask you something? Very seriously. One baseball fan to another.”

Steeling himself for whatever ridiculousness was likely to follow, John said, “Fine. What?”

“Brian Wilson? You know, the closer for the Giants?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Exactly. The beard...that’s a tactic?”

“I guess so? I don’t know.”

“But who cares about a beard when...”

“Alec, are you drunk?”

“No, you smartass, I’m serious. I saw this guy in a Taco Bell ad today. It’s bothering me.”

“It’s _bothering_ you?”

“What if the Yankees and the Giants face off in the 2012 World Series. The Yankees are an impeccably groomed, classy bunch...”

“Except for all the STDs and steroid use...”

“...I’m ignoring you, and they face this mountain of disturbing facial hair. I think I need to put together a think-tank to try and provide some strategies and answers.”

“Were you watching a _West Wing_ marathon? Is that where you saw this Taco Bell ad?”

“For your information, John, I was watching _Real Housewives of_...you know what? It’s none of your business. Good day.”  


* * *

  
“I have an idea for a project.” Alec announced over lunch one day.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I’m kind of busy looking at scripts.”

“What? _Leatherheads 2_? Did Clooney finally scrape together enough change from his couch cushions to pull that together?”

“I’ll have you know that has a 52% at Rotten Tomatoes.”

“I’m talking about a swords-and-sandals type picture. Doesn’t have a title yet. Haven’t you always wanted to be in a period action piece?”

Krasinski sighed. “Okay, fine, what’s it about?”

“Two fierce clans battling for total domination of a small but important land. On one side, glorious tradition. Strength. Fierceness but with a sophisticated polish. On the other: drunken mouthbreathers who rose from a bog and use brute force to achieve the very simplest of tasks.”

“Mm-hmm. Interesting. Say, you wouldn’t be comparing one of the sites of America’s birth to a bog, would you?”

“You’re talking nonsense. Now let me continue, would you?”

Sarcastically, John said, “Oh, absolutely. You were saying?”

“Two clans, deadlocked in battle. But then, finally, good triumphs. And the bog people are defeated in both the home series and the away series.”

“So I assume I’d play the leader of the bog people.”

“...Yes.”

“And you’re the leader of the Yankees?”

“...Yes.”

John made a thoughtful noise. “Okay, who plays my love interest?”

“Dustin Pedroia.”

With a roll of his eyes, John bit into his burger.  


* * *

At a predetermined, neutral, and secret location, Alec and John met. From the shadows, a figure approached.

“Bill,” Alec said, in a tone suggesting he was greeting a peer.

“Mr. Murray,” John said, in a tone suggesting he was wetting his pants.

“All right, you two jokers, here are the rules for the 2012 season: limited use of foul language is permitted; phone pranks should be contained to three per 24-hour period; especially brutal put-downs should be recorded for replay; no use of fire”--with a pointed look at Baldwin--”and the winner will be determined by an arbitrary game of rock, paper, scissors, and I’ll give him box seats to any St. Paul Saints game.”

“At least you didn’t offer Cubs tickets,” Alec muttered.

Bill Murray leveled a warning pointer finger in response, then said, “That reminds me: the first of you to get into a Twitter feud with Ozzie Guillen gets a guest spot on the TBS playoff broadcasting team. Dick Stockton owes me a favor. Now signal your agreement by shaking hands.”

The two non-Murray actors shook, firmly but suspiciously.

“All right then.” Then, imitating Bugs Bunny imitating a game warden, Bill said, “Why certainly, m’boy! It’s baseball season.” And with that, Bill Murray left as quietly as he appeared.

“I don’t know who I’m more afraid of: Bill Murray or Ozzie Guillen,” Krasinski admitted.

Alec, reading from his phone, intoned, “Guys if i tweet in spanish it bc they r for people who speak spanish when i tweet in english its for you guyss,” then said, “Perhaps Ozzie Guillen is the key to unhinging Brian Wilson.”

John put his hands in his pockets and said genially, “Well, Alec, we begin another fine baseb--”

“I can’t wait until we club you harbor-dwelling degenerates into the ground,” Alec interjected in an equally genial tone.

Moving quickly and with purpose, John knocked the cell phone out of Alec’s hand, then sprinted for the door, shouting over his shoulder, “Says you, Pinstripes.”

Alec narrated “And so it begins.” To no one in particular.


End file.
